


Life Between The Panels: The Adventures of Wolfman and Stiles Stilinski

by Baibaba



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/510698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baibaba/pseuds/Baibaba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' comic book character, The Wolfman (AKA Derek Hale, the lone werewolf with a tragic past and the ambition to save the dystopia city Guiding Mesa) comes to life. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Between The Panels: The Adventures of Wolfman and Stiles Stilinski

Skipping over the initial emotions and happenings and introductions, all very standard--terror, doubt, existential meanings of what’s real and what’s not, the punch to Stiles’ left eye by one angry and confused werewolf, the sudden urge to commit himself, and more genuine confusion Stiles has not felt since trying to understand Scott’s secret life ambition to juggle--the situation settles down.

Stiles is on one side of the counter while Derek is on the other. Stiles had offered food. Derek had taken this to mean eat everything Stiles owned.

The house is quiet, but Stiles is jumping from one foot to the other. His body refusing to stay still because this is the best day of his life.

Stiles isn’t going to say he’s God, but he’s totally God.

“So,” He starts and stops, trying to contain the ready-to-burst excitement inside, “Can you do the Wolfman face for me?”

Derek Hale, also known as ‘The Wolfman’ the anti-hero of Guiding Mesa, is real. Not a rough sketch on his broken drawing board. Not even the life-sized poster he had printed four years ago stapled to his office/kitchen wall that Stiles sometimes talks to. Looming before him is an actual human/werewolf being. This is Derek who is in full color and has much prettier eyes than Stiles has ever drawn, glaring at him and the poster of himself from the other side of the counter.

There’s turkey sticking out of his mouth. A bit of mayonnaise on his lips. It ruins the effect of the ‘Glare of Doom’.

Stiles isn’t going to say this is the first time he’s been attracted to one of his characters. He will say it is the first time he’s been attracted to honey glazed turkey.

The last time Stiles looked at a clock it was passed midnight. He had fallen asleep around five o’clock from his medication. The medication is new and helps when he is physically incapable of sitting down for more than seven minutes. As a comic book artist, this has created quite a problem.

He’s in his boxers and an ancient Sonic the Hedgehog t-shirt from high school that’s one-wash away from being completely unwearable. It’s comfortable. He has not changed out of these clothes for two days now. It is slightly embarrassing when he looks at Derek.

Although he’s never had the worst self esteem in the world, he is feeling completely inferior to Derek Hale’s utter manicured self.

The leather jacket alone is more masculine and put together than the entirety of Stiles’ life. Stiles is both saddened by this and proud.

Honestly, Stiles should have drawn a clone of himself so he could high five himself. And he could do it because apparently he’s magical now.

Derek is chewing his sandwich thoughtfully. He’s eyeing the poster of himself. It’s an early drawing that is over designed and has too many highlights on the leather jacket, making it look like its covered in glitter. Stiles had ordered the poster when he was picked up by the publisher. Stiles had thought that day would be the highlight of his life, if not the happiest moment of it.

Derek finishes his sandwich with a calmness that Stiles is completely estranged to.

“Wolfman face?” Derek says, like he’s confused.

“Yeah, you know the one.” Stiles tries to replicate it by scrunching up his face and baring his teeth causing Derek to look even more annoyed. Stiles throws his hands up in the air. Of course his father’s genes of not understanding the Stiles Dialect would be inherited by his son/creation/good-golly-that-hair.

“The face you have when you wolf out. You’re still a werewolf, right? That hasn’t changed since you’ve reversed ‘Take On Me’?”

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles is totally going to be drawing that in the future. It’s amazingly attractive. He’s finally understanding all those emails from fangirls.

It becomes clear that Derek is not going to do what his father/God asks of him when he starts digging through the freezer and pulls out the gallon of Rocky-Road ice cream and a blue ice pack. His thick eyebrows meet his hairline.

Stiles is not going to feel bad about his food choices by what might just be a hallucination for all he knows. He’s sixty-seven percent certain he hasn’t gone insane in the past two hours. He hasn’t been to a psychologist in years, but he knows what a mental breakdown feels like.

This situation feels more like a surprise Birthday party where he gets nothing but ‘ _Awesome Feelings_ ’ as presents.

Derek does not offer Stiles any of the ice cream, but he does hand him an ice pack. His extremely attractive son does not have the best manners. Though Stiles does thank him for the ice.

“I’m a comic book character?” This is the fifth time Derek has asked this question. His reluctance to believe it is on par to Stiles’ extreme happiness .

“Well, yeah. But I guess now you’re not? I’m not the authority of this type of shit.”

“So, you’re not sure?”

Stiles shakes his head. They aren’t doing this again. He may have a genius level IQ, but this type of thing is best left ignored. But he will be researching this. He makes a mental note on his list ‘Things To Do’, putting “look up cross dimensional travel” above the pressing “buy a new fire extinguisher”.

“Let’s just compromise and say we’re both real. You’re a werewolf hero of the night and I’m your loving father who birthed you from my mind loins.”

Stiles feels absolutely giddy, a word he does not use lightly, when he sees the flash of red in Derek’s eyes alongside the all too familiar anger. This means Derek is an alpha and how cool is that? This is all completely worth the black eye.

“Sorry,” Stiles grabs Derek’s spoon and takes a particularly large chunk of ice cream for himself. Derek immediately grabs it back.

“I’ve never even read a comic book.” Stiles is trying to figure out if the expression is more sad or pouty. He decides on pouty. Derek’s lower lip is jutting out just the tiniest bit to be qualified for it.

“Would this situation be ironic then? I’m pretty sure this is irony for you.”

Derek is growling when he says, “Can you not turn this into a joke?”

“Who’s making this a joke? I’m taking this as seriously as my sanity will let me. I personally don’t want my brains to explode,” Stiles flails his hands at the kitchen/office walls, “--everywhere. Plus, I know for a fact that you could use some sunshine shot up your sour wolf ass.”

“I will kill you.” Derek deadpans. Stiles laughs.

“Now who’s joking around? I’m not gonna point any fingers, but it isn’t me.”

“Your poster of me is creepy.”

Stiles blanches. When it’s put like that it just makes it sound like he’s a pre-pubescent boy who likes to draw life sized images of people he knows.

“Oh, that’s mature. Look at Derek Hale, Mr. ‘ _I’m too good to have my picture hung up on walls_ ’ Hale. Mr. ‘ _I can eat a half gallon of ice cream in two minutes_ ’--seriously? Derek, seriously?” The gallon of Rocky Road has depleted by half. Stiles is only comforted by the knowledge that Derek has an inhumanly fast metabolism. Those abs that he knows exist will not be departing this mortal coil any time soon.

Derek being a stress eater is new information though.

Derek, to his credit, looks slightly embarrassed. Stiles feels very pleased about this.

“You good?” Stiles asks.

Derek stares at him. It’s a way for him to intimidate his foes. Stiles isn’t sure how he feels that Derek considers him an enemy. Stiles couldn’t be less of an enemy to his Derek fucking Hale. After a moment of tense silence on Derek’s part. Stiles’ silence was filled with happiness and butterflies and sunshine and little clouds that have smily faces because they can.

“Now my beautiful bouncing baby-boy, it’s my turn. What’s the last thing you remember?” Stiles plucks the spoon from his fingers and enjoys what’s left of the Rocky Road.

For the past month Stiles has been on hiatus due to spraining his right hand. He had fallen over the garden gnome he had given his father for his fiftieth birthday. Being unable to work on his comic had left him itching for anything to fill his time. Now he’s filling up his days answering fan-mail. Or being a faux-intern at Scott’s vet clinic. He’s also been planning a weekend marathon of Dexter. Not the most exciting life, as the barista ‘Isaac’ at the local coffee shop had said.

At the time Stiles had argued and had refused to tip. Now, Stiles would have to agree. This is so much better.

“I just killed my Uncle.” Says Derek, glaring at Stiles like maybe Stiles will say something stupid. It’s frustrating that Derek of all people would think so low of him.

Stiles is considerate goddamnit.

Derek’s uncle, Peter Hale, the elusive werewolf and the only one to survive the Hale fire. Insane and power hungry. A violent sociopath. Peter had made his first appearance in the fourth issue. The character was almost as ruthless as The Huntress. The voluptuous love interest who was also Derek’s sworn enemy. She had been inspired by Scott’s girlfriend’s Aunt Kate. Aunt Kate was scary and had hit on Stiles when he was sixteen.

It had been terrifying.

“You don’t remember how you got here?” Stiles would like to think it was from his own willpower.

“No. And that counts as your next question, _daddy_.” Derek grabs the spoon back. Stiles trips over his own feet. He would like it to be known this is the moment he regrets wearing only boxer briefs to hide his shame.

Derek sniffs the air then. It’s subtle but Stiles has drawn the action enough times to know it when he sees it. He thinks about his grandmother’s lingerie. It’s pink. There’s lace. It’s big. And his grandfather loves it. He only ever saw it in the laundry room after their anniversary.

Stiles hates that he knows this. He tries to magic up brain bleach. It does not work.

Derek ignores what he obviously knows.

“Am I insane?” Derek practically spits the question out.

“If you’re insane then I’m insane. And I’m pretty sure I have all my marbles.” Stiles pauses. It’s not the entire truth and he will be damned if he lies to his whatever it is Derek is. “The important ones at least.”

Derek nods. It’s minute and so completely Derek. Maybe Stiles isn’t the worst writer in the business after all.

“Do Camaros exist... here?”

The infamous black 2010 Chevrolet Camaro that appeared in the very first issue of ‘The Wolfman’. Stiles had fallen in love with the car the first time he saw it. He will never have the money for one, so he gave it to Derek. A pen and ink drawing of a Camaro is so much more affordable than a real one.

It’s nice to know what Derek’s priorities are.

Stiles nods. “Hell yeah they exist. I’ve never actually been inside one, but from what I can tell from Google they are really awesome. My turn.”

He steals the spoon back. He should probably just get his own. But he doesn’t want to. His eye is starting to swell. His vision gets a little lopsided.

He looks at Derek. His creation who’s now a person who has dark rings under his eyes. His skin is pasty. He looks unbelievably tired and deflated. The last issue had Derek fighting tooth and nail for his life against Peter.

The first epiphany had been that he was definitely God. Or at the very least unintentionally magical.

It dawns on Stiles in that moment what he should have thought of earlier. Stiles had created Derek. He created the booming dystopian metropolis Guiding Mesa for Derek to defend. Stiles is the reason Derek is alone and has had more nightmares than any person or werewolf should ever have.

The second epiphany in all this mess, is that Stiles is an asshole of a God. Which is a huge bummer. It’s not like he had been trying to be a complete dick to Derek. No one is interested in a story where it’s all happy endings and everyone get’s what they want. When high school Stiles had created the idea of ‘The Wolfman’ he sure as Hell wasn’t interested in anything beyond absolute misery and trying to be cool.

Suddenly he feels very tired.

“How about you take my bed and we’ll talk more in the morning.” Stiles raises his hand when Derek starts to put on the face of ‘I don’t trust you’. It’s a very familiar expression.

“I promise I won’t kill you in your sleep. You are my son after all.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls out like the werewolf he is, which is again, awesome, “I really will rip out your throat with my teeth.”

“Now, now. That’s no way to speak to your loving Pappy.”

“You do realize I can smell what’s in your pants, right?”

Stiles isn’t going to say that he finds Derek Hale, his Wolfman, a frustrating combination of scary and attractive. But he totally does.

**Author's Note:**

> Keeping track of that goddamn spoon was surprisingly difficult.


End file.
